


Love Me or Leave Me Alone

by Habren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Contemplative smut, F/F, a tad of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Habren/pseuds/Habren
Summary: Different perspectives are resolved. Takes place a few years after the war.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 24
Kudos: 168





	Love Me or Leave Me Alone

**Author's Note:**

> This story kinda wrote itself, and it was a gift to myself for completing another semester.  
> It is inspired by the song "Love Me or Leave Me Alone" by Markus Feehily, though again, my angstmeter is way down.
> 
> Thank you, EM, for your input.  
> Thank you, TT, you're a star.  
> BG 109.

She didn’t expect to be in this position, in fact, she’d sworn she _never_ would be. Not that anyone had ever dared to try. Yet, for over half a year, for the last almost seven months of her life, Narcissa Black had acquiesced to being a secret. Not just any secret either, a dirty, shameful secret. She’d wondered at times if that was her penance for everything she’d done, or worse, the things she _hadn’t_ done over the last twenty years. And surely, Hermione Granger, the brain of the Golden bleeding Trio, would be the perfect choice to dole out such a punishment.

Narcissa sighed and dropped down on the couch of her living room. She rested her head in her hands. Where was she anyway? She’d told Hermione to meet her tonight at seven. She raised her head and stared at the grandfather clock in the corner. Her eyes narrowed. It was ten past. She rose and paced the room. What if she didn’t show? It wouldn’t be the first time, though to be fair, Hermione had always sent an owl to let her know that something had come up, and their next meetings usually included a contrite dark-haired witch making it up to Narcissa in the most delightful of ways.

No. She couldn’t think of that. Such memories would only dampen her ire, and there were things she needed to say, even if that meant...even if it ended whatever this...this _thing_ between them was. Narcissa had been reluctant to be open about Hermione at first, afraid of the reactions of her son, Andromeda, who she’d just gotten back, and of the wizarding world in general for defiling their war hero. She closed her eyes and halted.

Things had changed though, slowly, and incrementally and then, Narcissa had felt the urge to claim Hermione, to announce to the world what was between them, but it seemed that she was the only one who felt like that. So she’d remained quiet, hiding what had become a huge part of her life. She gritted her teeth. Rejection would hurt, more than she’d ever admit, but this couldn’t continue. With a deep sigh, she once more sat down. 

They weren’t a complete secret, if one counted the Muggle world and, well, Narcissa supposed that since that was where Hermione grew up, it should count for something. If they went out together they only ventured into Muggle London. They’d gone to movies, theaters, museums, even the opera together. They’d gone dining at restaurants of cuisines from all over the world, and Hermione had introduced her to food trucks. Yet, when it came to the wizarding world, _their_ world, they weren’t even friends. Strangers from opposing sides of the war. Unacceptable.

A crack rang through the room, startling her out of her musings.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, you wouldn’t believe what...” Hermione, out of breath, shucked off her coat before taking off her scarf, but once her gaze caught Narcissa, she froze before rushing closer. “What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

“We need to talk,” Narcissa said, holding Hermione’s gaze, dismayed by the sense of petty satisfaction, dread, and anguish that flooded her when Hermione paled, her eyes widened before she rocked back on her heels and rose with fidgeting hands.

“Sit down, please,” Narcissa said, having to close her eyes to gather her bearings and to stomp out the affection and yearning she felt for Hermione, quash the longing to pull her into her arms and console her, reassure her.

“All right,” Hermione muttered and sat down across from Narcissa.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Narcissa pressed out, clearing her throat, hoping to suppress the sob that clawed at her throat.

“What?” Hermione’s mouth opened, but for a prolonged moment she said nothing else, just shook her head. “I don’t...I don’t understand. Where is this coming from? I thought...” She bit her lip.

“You thought what? That I’d be fine living forever as your dirty secret?” Narcissa spat, anger and frustration thundering inside, but that was easier to handle than the way her heart stuttered and shriveled at the thought of losing Hermione.

Hermione’s eyebrows almost crawled off her forehead. “My dirty secret?”

Narcissa raised her chin but remained still and silent.

Hermione drew a shaking hand through her dark curls. “I don’t understand. I thought…I thought you enjoyed what we have…”

“I did, but it can’t last. Not like this.”

Hermione jumped up but arrested her movement toward Narcissa, and instead, her shoulders slumped.

Narcissa had to hold onto the armrest of the sofa to refrain from rushing to the dark-haired witch.

“I know we started this in an unusual way but—”

Narcissa snorted and Hermione glared at her. She supposed unusual was one way to put it, a drunken fumble in the coat closet at her son’s birthday party leading to a night that still made her stomach clench at the sheer memory. So reckless when they were drunk, and it seemed to have taken them months to sober up.

“Why do you want to leave me?” Hermione whispered, her gaze finding the floor.

All air fled Narcissa’s body while the sob that had been tearing at her throat constricted the airflow to her lungs. She gasped. “I don’t _want_ to leave you.”

“But you said…”

“You don’t love me, and so I need to leave,” Narcissa said and cringed. She hadn’t wanted to say that. Anything but that, given that it implied that she loved the younger witch, and while she did, one never put oneself in such a vulnerable position, at least not without a plan. And Narcissa had no plan, only the deeply rooted knowledge that this one-sided affair was killing her. She wanted more. She wanted all, or nothing. She couldn’t settle for less, and she knew that wasn’t what Hermione wanted, so she needed to let her go.

Hermione frowned. “I feel like I’ve entered in the middle of a movie I’ve never seen, and I’ve missed some vital information. Can we…can we slow down and start from the beginning? What makes you think you’re my dirty secret?”

“Really? How many people know about us? You won’t even acknowledge that we’re friends! Let alone that you’ve let the wife of a former Death Eater fuck you for the last seven months!” Narcissa almost shouted. She never shouted. Her heart drummed in her chest, reminding her of that jackhammer instrument they’d passed during one of their trips to Muggle London. Could Hermione hear it? The beating reverberated in her ears at an almost deafening din.

Hermione flinched and crimson colored her cheeks.

Narcissa usually took pleasure in making her flush, but now she felt hollow and cheap, as if she’d betrayed them, herself, by reducing the time they’ve spent together to _that_. Though that’s what this was for Hermione, wasn’t it?

Hermione worried her lower lip, and Narcissa struggled to shift her gaze back to Hermione’s eyes. “Is that all it is? Fucking?” Hermione said and her dark eyes burned with a challenge that made Narcissa swallow hard.

“No. I apologize. I can only speak for myself but...that’s not all. Not for me.”

“For me neither!”

Narcissa raised her eyebrows.

“How can you even think that? After all the time we’ve spent together!”

“Alone. Away from your friends and family.”

“You haven’t told Draco or Andy either!”

“Because you’re ashamed of me! What good would it do to tell them when you’d never acknowledge—”

“For Merlin’s sake, Narcissa Black, what are you talking about? I am _not_ ashamed of you, or of us!”

“Then why all the secrecy? Why all the hiding? What else am I supposed think?”

Hermione dipped her head before falling back onto the couch. “I thought at first that it was a game to you. You could have anyone, so why would you be with me?”

Now it was Narcissa’s turn to open her mouth without having words to form, and instead, she saw them lodged in her throat. _A game? She could have everyone?_

“But we didn’t stop. That night,” Hermione said and color once more rose high in her cheeks. “It wasn’t a one-time thing and then…I got to show you my world and… I…you see, during school and the war, we shared everything. Ron, Harry, and I. We were always together and there was nothing that was ever just for me. After the war, this didn’t change much.” She released a dark chuckle.

Narcissa tilted her head.

“The entire wizarding world, you know, they always wanted a piece of Harry, but now they had Ron and I as a target as well.”

Narcissa hated how often Hermione mentioned the youngest Weasley boy.

“It felt…like they’d devour everything, twist it and distort it, turning it ugly and taking it away. I thought… I wanted something that was just…mine? I didn’t want to share you.”

Askance, Narcissa’s eyelids fluttered. “Share me?” Her voice usually didn’t sound that high pitched.

“What?” Hermione’s gaze found hers before her eyes widened almost comically and she raised her hands. “No, no. Not like _that_!”

Narcissa relaxed. That would have been an entirely different problem. She didn’t share.

“I enjo…I loved spending these last months with you. I actually…I was going to ask you tonight if you wanted to join me for New Year’s Eve tomorrow. We haven’t really talked about it and I mean, you might already have plans, but I still wanted to ask, and I told Molly that I might bring a guest. A special guest.”

“You want me to join you, to attend festivities at the Weasleys’?” Narcissa was sure she was hallucinating. Maybe the steam of her last batch of potions had knocked her unconscious and this was all an elaborate fantasy borne from her own wishful thinking? A special guest? Surely she wasn’t implying…

“Yes?”

“Why are you saying that as a question?”

Hermione huffed. “I don’t know! You make me nervous and you look like you’re ready to kick me out and—”

“What?”

“You look all cold and severe and serious. It reminds me of when we first met during the Quidditch World Cup,” Hermione said and released a shuddering breath.

“We didn’t meet at the Quidditch World Cup!”

Hermione laughed. “Merlin, promise me not to laugh or make fun of me.”

“Why would I do either?”

“Right. This is embarrassing but you seem to be working under some sort of delusion and—”

“I am _not_ delusional!”

“No, not what I meant, more like, you have the wrong impression.”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes but felt somewhat mollified. “Proceed.”

Hermione chuckled and the sound alone was enough for warmth to seep through Narcissa. How would she get over losing her? _One step at a time_ , she admonished herself.

“I was few weeks shy of my fifteenth birthday back then. Arthur had surprised us all with tickets to the World Cup. We ran into you, and your family at the final.”

“I don’t remember, but to be fair, I tried to block out most of those years.”

Hermione nodded. “I hated your son and your ex-husband.” Hermione frowned. “I still despise Lucius.”

Narcissa couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’d never really seen you before. In passing at platform 9 ¾, but I never paid much attention. At least not until the World Cup.” A small smile spread over Hermione’s face. “You were so breathtakingly beautiful that day. It hurt looking at you.”

Narcissa’s eyes widened, but Hermione’s gaze appeared lost in memories.

“You are still as beautiful, but now I also know you and that’s even more…” Hermione cleared her throat. “Anyway. I knew I should hate you, but I was mesmerized, and to be honest, that crush, it never went away.”

Narcissa didn’t trust her voice to form a reply.

“After the war, whenever we ran into each other, these feelings came roaring back. I didn’t expect or intend to befriend Draco, though I didn’t mind that it drew me more into your orbit. Still, I had resigned myself to this unrequited crush and didn’t imagine anything would ever change, until that night at the party.”

Narcissa stared at her, unmoving and in silence, trying and failing to process Hermione’s words.

“Are you OK? Are you mad at me? Because this isn’t some schoolgirl crush. I’m serious. Years have passed, and I’m twenty-three and—”

“No, dear. I’m not mad,” Narcissa said, knowing but not caring that her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I didn’t know.”

“Yes, well, we never really talk about feelings, but I thought…I thought they were understood? At least, after I got over my disbelief that you actually wanted to be with me. I also thought that, well, we were taking it slow. Enjoying our time alone together before the outside intrudes and…” She sighed. “I was also worried they’d be horrid to you.”

“Who? The Weasleys? Surely they can’t still be hoping you’ll settle down and marry Ronald?” Narcissa grumbled.

Hermione laughed in that way that made her nose crinkle and Narcissa’s heart flutter. “No. They’ll love you,” she said and at Narcissa’s expression, added, “well, once they get over the whole feud with the Malfoys. Besides, you’re not a Malfoy anymore!”

“I was one for over twenty years.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Why? Because it makes you realize how much older I am?”

“What? No. It reminds me how long you were married to that git and that I’ve only had you for…” Hermione blushed and pressed her lips together.

Meanwhile, Narcissa realized that she’d indeed been somewhat delusional, albeit in the wrong direction. Her heart seemed to have found the vicinity of her throat a comfortable spot in its attempt to garner Narcissa’s undivided attention, but it still lost to the vision in front of her. She rose and ambled toward Hermione, slowly sinking on the cushion next to her.

“Hermione, dear,” Narcissa said, and when Hermione lifted her head and found her gaze, she grasped the young witch’s hand. “I love you, too.”

Tears shot into Hermione’s eyes and Narcissa learned forward, resting their foreheads together before placing a tender kiss on Hermione’s lips.

She’d meant for the kiss to be sweet and reassuring, a moment to reconnect and heal, and while it was all that, Hermione shuddered, and a low moan spilled from her lips when she surged forward and claimed Narcissa’s lips in a bruising kiss.

Her tongue sought entrance and Narcissa groaned and opened her mouth. Narcissa’s eyes fell shut at the heat and heady flavor drowning her senses as Hermione’s tongue licked into her mouth and tangled with hers.

Hermione’s cold hands felt pleasurable to Narcissa’s overheated skin when she pulled her closer, urging her to climb onto her lap.

Narcissa shifted closer and sank her hands into Hermione’s curls, deepening their kiss.

There was a time when Narcissa believed nature had equipped her with a low sex drive for she could take it or leave it. Sex was fine, but it had never been something she’d craved or initiated. At least not before that first surprising night that saw them making love until the sun rose. Their relationship since then was more than that, and now that Hermione had assuaged her fears, she almost felt silly for not having seen this before. She’d been so focused on Hermione’s reluctance to be public in the wizarding world that she’d overlooked all they had, or better, that it was far from one-sided. She supposed fear could do that to a person.

Hermione’s hands shifting beneath her dress and grasping her upper thighs, deft fingers digging into sensitive flesh, derailed her meandering thoughts and snapped her back to the heat that engulfed her.

Hermione broke their kiss and latched onto Narcissa’s throat, nibbling and licking along the column of her neck.

Narcissa moaned while her hips started to rock into Hermione, causing the younger witch to dig her fingers harder into Narcissa’s skin.

Heat coiled low in her stomach and she shuddered when Hermione’s fingertips inched higher, closer to her panties. Narcissa whimpered as Hermione’s fingers finally grazed the fabric before she groaned in frustration when the touch remained featherlight and avoided the center, instead, fingers she longed to feel inside skimmed across the edges, trailing idle patterns over silk as if the dark-haired witch had access to a never-ending well of patience.

Narcissa bowed her back and dropped her head into the crook of Hermione’s neck, latching onto sensitive skin and pulling it into her mouth, sucking hard.

Hermione trembled and groaned, her fingers between Narcissa’s legs twitching.

Narcissa nuzzled Hermione’s neck before licking up and sucking her earlobe into her mouth. Releasing it, she licked up the shell of Hermione’s ear, making sure her hot breath ghosted across her lover’s ear, and when it did, the younger witch shuddered and rocked up against her.

“Stop teasing me,” Narcissa breathed into Hermione’s ear.

The dark-haired witch froze, halting all movement for several long seconds with their labored breathing the only sound filling the air before Hermione pushed her panties to the side and dipped her fingers into Narcissa’s heat.

Both women groaned and trembled.

Narcissa felt Hermione’s arm grow taut as anticipatory tension filled her frame.

“Yes,” Narcissa moaned into Hermione’s ear, holding onto her, her fingers scratching down her back before pulling her closer, settling into the rhythm Hermione set between her legs.

“You’re so wet,” Hermione whispered and the arousal in her voice sent shivers down Narcissa’s spine.

Hermione’s fingers sped up before dipping down and pushing two fingers inside.

Narcissa groaned, biting the flesh where Hermione’s neck met her shoulder, all the while canting her hips to give Hermione’s thrusts a better and deeper angle.

Short puffs of air left Hermione’s mouth and judging by the tension running rampant through her, her need for Narcissa’s release seemed almost more urgent than the hot tendrils of arousal that drummed through the blonde witch. 

Hermione’s thumb rubbed rough circles, faster and faster and Narcissa clutched the dark-haired witch’s back when her body locked before she trembled and quaked in a drawn-out release, a moan morphing into Hermione’s name spilled from her lips while the younger witch held her tight, her free hand stroking her back, easing Narcissa through her aftershocks.

Still clinging to Hermione and with closed eyes, Narcissa got lost in the languid pleasure relaxing her muscles, and the potent scent of their lovemaking surrounding them.

After a moment passed in silence, she became aware of the rapid flutter of Hermione’s heart. Her poor, brave lioness. Narcissa felt awful for what she’d put her through, and while she wasn’t alone in causing this mess, the majority of the blame lay at her feet.

Narcissa shifted her head and placed an open-mouthed kiss against Hermione’s neck and was surprised by the shock of pleasure that seeped through her at Hermione’s little gasp and the tightening of arms around her. She often struggled to fathom what the dark-haired witch did to her, but that was a contemplation for another day.

Narcissa sat up before pushing Hermione back against the couch. She sunk to the floor, her hands resting on Hermione’s legs. She smiled and cast Hermione’s pants and panties off, causing the younger witch to hiss and open her legs wider.

Narcissa settled between Hermione’s legs, trailing her fingers along her thighs, scratching lightly. She gazed up at Hermione and grew still at the stunning image before her. Hermione’s pupils were blown, her chest heaved, and her knuckles were ashen as her hands gripped the couch cushion.

She was a vision, and Narcissa could scarcely believe that this woman loved her and wanted to be with her. She vowed to do everything in her power to be deserving of such grace.

“Please,” Hermione mouthed, biting her lower lip.

Narcissa felt drunk when she ducked her head and kissed Hermione’s trembling legs, sucking and licking up her thighs.

Hermione groaned, her head sinking back while her hips pushed forward, urging Narcissa on.

Narcissa could smell her and she groaned, unable to resist bending down and taking Hermione into her mouth.

Hermione released a trembling shout that stuttered into a long moan at Narcissa’s tongue touching her.

Narcissa hummed and the vibration made Hermione gasp, her hands flying to Narcissa’s hair, aimlessly stroking her head.

She could do this for hours, and she’d done that, but tonight Hermione was a river and wouldn’t last. She licked up her length, groaning at the taste and scent cascading over her.

Hermione’s hands tightened in her hair when she pushed her tongue inside.

“Merlin, your tongue…” Hermione panted and Narcissa suppressed the smug smile that wanted to spread over her face in favor of running her tongue back up, pulling Hermione’s lips into her mouth and sucking gently before releasing them and moving up, flicking her tongue in fast, tight circles over Hermione’s swollen nub.

Hermione shook and her back bowed, Narcissa’s name an elongated moan before her legs trembled harder, then her whole body arched and with a shout, she peaked, her body writhing on the couch as she rode out her release.

Narcissa sighed and placed a small kiss on Hermione’s mound before the dark-haired witch pulled her up and drew her into a deep kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Hermione pressed a lingering kiss against Narcissa’s cheek and sighed. “That’s not how I expected tonight to end after your ‘we need to talk’ bomb.”

“Neither did I,” Narcissa said with a wistful expression. “It’s an ending I didn’t even dare hope would transpire.”

“But you’re happy?”

Narcissa smiled. “Ecstatic.”

“Good.”

“In fact, can I interest you in joining me in the shower?”

“Now?”

“No. Tomorrow at the Burrow,” Narcissa deadpanned.

“You’re coming?”

“I already did, but I wouldn’t be against a repeat performance,” Narcissa replied with a small grim.

“What? Wait…oh,” Hermione said and swatted her shoulder.

“Yes, dear. If you still want to go, I’d love to join you as your _special_ guest tomorrow.”

Hermione squealed and rushed forward, hugging Narcissa. “Thank you! It’s going to be so much fun!”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” Narcissa drawled.

Hermione jumped up and pulled Narcissa along. “Come on. You were saying something about a shower?”

Narcissa laughed and allowed Hermione to drag her to the bathroom.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate any comments and constructive feedback.


End file.
